


Despite Everything, it's Still You

by Schmuzz



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fake AH Crew, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Pining, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2019-08-04 09:52:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16344554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schmuzz/pseuds/Schmuzz
Summary: It's not that Ryan doesn't like Alfredo - the way the other man grins mischievously at him, constantly flirts with him, so obviously, shamelessly wants him, it's... something, alright. Something that he wants to cherish and return tenfold. He just knows Alfredo wouldn't like him anymore if he saw him. Really saw him.





	Despite Everything, it's Still You

**Author's Note:**

> For a tumblr prompt challenge: 'You're so cute when you pout like that'. This was super fun! Hope you guys like it - this is the first time I've written this ship but it's just adorable.

“You’re so cute when you pout like that,” Alfredo said, flashing a bright grin, sunglasses reflecting the light making his face stand out like a beacon. A very annoying, persistent, charming beacon. 

“I’m not pouting,” Ryan said. He should know better than to respond to any of Alfredo’s antics by now. It only encouraged him. But the Crew’s new sniper also had a penchant for going on rambling monologues, too. So either way, he’d be listening to the other man for the duration of this stakeout. 

Ryan would say that was the reason why the new guy got along so well with Gavin, but that was unfair. So far, Alfredo got along with  _everybody._ Except for maybe himself. Which was a problem Alfredo seemed determined to fix.

“Could’ve fooled me. Mister tall, broad, and brooding.” Usually through flirting.

“It’s tall, dark, and handsome.”

“What makes you think you’re handsome, huh?” Alfredo goaded, nudging his shoulder. Ryan flinched back.

“I’m not saying anything,” Ryan snapped. “It’s just how it goes. What’s with the broad?”

“You’ve got the shoulder-to-hip ratio of Captain America,” Alfredo said, completely unfazed. Ryan had gathered the distinct notion that Alfredo’s attitude towards him meant that he had taken Geoff’s off-the-cuff permission to date within the Crew as a race to get to the Vagabond first. He would have wanted to ask why, but decided it was best to play dumb where the other man was concerned for now, and… Alfredo had already said it, didn’t he? Tall, broad, and brooding. He had never seen Ryan out of his mask, but that little detail didn’t seem to bother him. He probably assumed that part was as appealing as the rest of them. He scowled at the thought.

“You’re pouting again. I can see it in your eyes,” Alfredo supplied.

Just as Ryan was debating the pros of throwing the other man off the roof, their comms crackled; Gavin helpfully reporting that the elevator cameras showed their target was heading towards the lobby. Alfredo slid forward on his stomach, readying his gun.

“Shouldn’t you take your sunglasses off for that?”

“Sun glare.”

“It’s cloudy.”

Alfredo shoved his shades up into his dark hair, gave Ryan a disappointed look, and turned back towards the hotel’s entrance. “You can wear a mask and face paint all goddamn day, but I try to be fashion forward, and -”  _Blam! “_ Okay Gav, we got him. Me and the big guy are moving out.” Alfredo sent him an overenthusiastic thumbs up. Ryan sighed.

-

“He’s very… persistent.” Ryan managed to say. He elected to tell Michael of his problem - no, not problem. Situation? Occurrences - with the new guy. 

“Does it make you uncomfortable? Thought you liked guys. Alfredo’s cute.”

“He’s fine. That’s not the issue. It’s… me.” 

“What, you Frankenstein under there?” Ryan didn’t respond. “Come on, we all got weird scars, if it  _is_ that. Half my ass is scar tissue at this point and Lindsay said that -”

Ryan wrinkled his nose, standing up. “Thanks for the ass story.”

“Hey,” Michael started, grabbing the older man’s arm. “I can tell under the face paint you have some stuff going on. But it never freaked me out. We’re not regular people, s’not like we’re not used to seeing how this life fucks you up.”

“Me and my fucked up face thank you for the encouragement,” Ryan answered icily. 

“Calm down, Zoolander, your face is fine.”

“You just said you haven’t seen it.”

“So long as it doesn’t literally melt my face off, it doesn’t matter. Who you are and what you do is more important than a cleft lip or whatever. Alfredo probably thinks the same thing. Even he must know you don’t keep that gear on for fun.”  Ryan couldn’t think of anything to reply to that, and Michael let him go, leaning back in his seat. “Think of it like you’re, you know. The Phantom of the Opera.”

Ryan squinted “He doesn’t get a happy ending.”

“Not in the  _show_ , but he has a million fans who wish that he was real and could whisk them away to his underground lair or whatever. What I’m saying is it’s not a deal breaker. Let him romance you. Or convince you into whipping your dick out, whatever Alfredo’s aim is.”

Ryan snorted. “Thanks.”

_-_

“So, baby girl -”

“Don’t call me that.”

There was a pause. Ryan could almost hear Alfredo straining to contain himself. He took the clip out of his handgun, flicked the safety back on, and tugged his head gear off, waiting.

“…Baby boy.”

“And there it is. What do you want?”

Alfredo shot him that typical grin, before shifting on his feet. “Well, um. It’s just - we’ve been working together for a while now, and I feel like we kind of have this thing going on between us…” Ryan turned, squinting at the other man. Out of all the places to try and ask someone out, a gun range was - actually, it was probably perfect for them. And if it went too poorly, there was an easy out readily available for convenience. Ryan eyed his handgun longingly. 

“What sort of thing?”

“You know, a thing where I shamelessly flirt with you and you… tolerate it.” 

“Right. Are you coming here to tell me you’re going to stop?”

“That’s the thing,” Alfredo said, sticking his arms out in an exasperated manner. “I  _would_ , but you just - you’re very subtle. You don’t tell people how you’re feeling or thinking, like, at all. But I learned that when you don’t like something, or somebody, knives get thrown.”

Ryan crossed his arms, wishing he had more than just his face paint on at the moment. He felt too exposed, especially when Alfredo was able to read him so… effortlessly. “Your point?”

“You roll your eyes at me, or redirect my attention somewhere else, or try to make fun of me. You’ve never threatened me, or thrown me off a roof, or given me any sign that you want me to  _stop,_ so -”

“Someone has to throw you off the roof to get you to stop speaking to them?”

“No! Of course not! Just you. Because that’s how you are. You either act like you don’t care, or you actively try to destroy what’s bothering you. And you haven’t tried to take me out, so I was wondering if, maybe… I could take  _you_  out? Like in a date way?” Alfredo’s voice went up in a hopeful lilt, and he coughed, still scuffing his feet. 

“I, uh…” Ryan really wanted to say no. Not because he wasn’t interested in Alfredo, but because he knew what was inevitably going to happen after. Maybe if he very harshly rejected Alfredo right now, he’d break his heart and get left alone. Looking at how uncharacteristically nervous Alfredo appeared to be right now, he could definitely manage something devastating. 

…But he didn’t really want to be left alone. Or upset Alfredo, either. 

He turned back to the shooting gallery. “Wanna take a ride up to Mount Chiliad sometime?” he asked. 

“Uh -”

“Stargazing, picnicking, trying to navigate the steep cliffs in a car without dying, very romantic.” He glanced back at Alfredo, hoping the other man would realize he was serious.

By the frantic blinking, followed by that thousand-watt smile, he had figured it out.

“Yeah! Sounds great, amazing. I’ll take care of the food - did you want to do, like tonight? No tomorrow that’s better, probably, it’s a Thursday so it won’t be too crowded. Can I pick you up at nine? I don’t have your address.”

“I’ll meet you at the southern base point, nine o’ clock.” He pulled the headgear on again. “See you then.” From the corner of his eye he saw Alfredo scrambling out of the room.

He couldn’t will his hands to still and make a clean shot for a full two minutes afterwards. 

-

Southern California was kept on a stable range of warm to fry-an-egg-on-the-sidewalk scorching. But up near the mountains, now that the sun had set, it was actually cool. There was even a hint of fresh air from the pines and scrubby bushes that littered the area. He had driven his car up to a relatively flat piece of land, a little hidden and out of the way from any other hikers who were still around. Alfredo had a sharp enough eye that he’d be spotted without too much trouble. All he had to do was wait.

The serenity of the area nagged at Ryan’s gut, and he burned through a few cigarettes, waiting for Alfredo to show up. His shoes crunched on the loose stones as he paced from his car to the view of the main road and back again. His skin felt strange in the open air, like it wasn’t just his bare face, but instead he was exposing the raw pieces of muscle, bone, and sinew. A rotted away skull in place of his head. 

That’s probably what he looked like. He couldn’t quite bring himself to study his reflection in the mirror before he left. Eyes staring forward as he checked his hair and teeth, but intentionally unfocusing around everything else. 

He touched his fingers to his cheek, feeling the scar tissue mixed with the even, healthy skin where stubble could still grow. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Alfredo said. Ryan smothered his urge to jump, instead he took another drag from his cigarette. His back was still to the other man. “I didn’t really know what you liked, since I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat, but I feel like Michael said something about how you like anything with sugar, so I got us a bunch of snacks, and then I was thinking, you know, something classy for actual dinner. Burritos? Hope you like pork.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Ryan choked out. He was so tempted to turn around and see how Alfredo had transported everything. If he had actually brought a picnic basket he might actually die. But he couldn’t bring himself to move. “I was just uh, admiring the view,” he gestured emptily at the scenery around them, shrouded in darkness.

“Oh believe me, so am I.” Ryan snorted. He dropped the nub of a cigarette on the ground, stomping it out with his boot. He yearned for his mask, but he hadn’t even brought that, knew if he did, he’d chicken out and try to wear it. “So, uh, did you want to go up in your car, or -”

Ryan spun around facing Alfredo, watching the other man’s expression intently. Even though he knew it would break him to see the surprise, then disgust, then the pity that would cross his face.

“Nice picnic basket,” he said. If he was normal, he could have laughed and teased Alfredo about how he took Ryan’s suggestion literally. And then they’d go up the mountain and probably make out under the stars after a few hours of eating and drinking and talking together. But instead Alfredo was eyeing him with that deer in the headlights expression, like he wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking at. But Ryan knew he could see everything; even in the relative darkness of the mountain, he could still see the deep scars that decimated most of his face, cutting through his nose and part of his mouth, down one side of his jaw and up his forehead. It was all encompassing, after all. Disfiguring. Disgusting. “Surprise,” he muttered. 

“Didn’t think I’d see you without any face paint on this soon,” Alfredo said, eventually. “You must really think I’m special.” 

“I guess,” Ryan said. He warily watched Alfredo’s eyes flit over his own. Tried to ignore the urge to back away when Alfredo got closer. He had moved on from surprised. But he hadn’t reached the - other part. 

“So,” Alfredo started. “Did you wanna take your car up?” 

“What?”

“Let me know, this basket is heavy as fuck.” He hefted it up a little higher for emphasis. Ryan started at him, blinking. “And I’m not gonna, you know, run away. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

Ryan bit back a defensive, ‘no, I wasn’t’ because it was too blatant of a lie. “It doesn’t, uh, bother you? It’s okay if it does. It bothers other people.” He wanted to swipe a hand in front of his face to hide himself, but he didn’t want to be reminded of how much damage had been done there. 

“It doesn’t bother me,” Alfredo said.

“If you say so.” It bothered  _him,_ and he was the one who lived with it 24/7. He bit on the inside of his cheek.

“It doesn’t. And I know I’ve said how cute you are when you’re pouting like that -”

Ryan glanced up. “I’m not  _pouting,_ Jesus.”

Alfredo raised his eyebrows in a silent point of disbelief. “Can you smile for me instead?” he gently asked. Ryan obliged him, even if he could feel the alien way his scarred skin stretched as he did. Alfredo’s returning grin made it worth it. “Can I also please put this down?” He hefted the picnic basket again to make a point, and Ryan let out a soft laugh in response.

“Sure, get in, I’ll drive us up.” Ryan fished the keys out of his pocket and opened the backseat so Alfredo could shove their food in, before clamoring to the passenger side. Ryan followed, starting their slow ascent in the darkness.

Ryan wasn’t normal - and his life hadn’t left him unscathed, either. But Alfredo didn’t live a normal life either. And despite that, they still ended up talking at a rocky outcropping near the peak of Mount Chiliad, basking in each other’s company and slowly making their way through the insane amount of food in Alfredo’s had brought. They even had that heavy moment, where they looked at each other, and Alfredo reached out, trying to cup his cheek. Ryan couldn’t help the instinctual flinch back. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s okay. Did you want to…?”

“Yes.” This time he was ready as Alfredo’s hand touched his face, the two of them leaning forward until their lips met, then again, and again, and - 

They weren’t normal, and maybe they needed to make a more concerted effort than others to make it, to make  _them,_ work, but it was possible. Alfredo assured him of that. 


End file.
